You Know You Wanna
by rockstarpeach
Summary: Dean gets drunk and wants to get laid. When Sam makes that impossible for him, he insists that Sam help him out. Drunk!Dean, so lots of silly and nonsensical thoughts. Horny!Sam, so, again, nonsensical thoughts. Adult.
1. Chapter 1

Title: You Know You Wanna

Pairing: Dean/Sam

Rating: Adult

Summary: Dean gets drunk and wants to get laid. When Sam makes that impossible for him, he insists that Sam help him out. Drunk!Dean, so lots of silly and nonsensical thoughts. Horny!Sam, so, again, nonsensical thoughts.

***

Sam stopped just outside of their latest digs, juggling two cups of coffee and an overflowing folder full of research, while he tried to dig the motel room key out of his pocket, to unlock the door. He jerked one arm just a little too much and a decent amount of hot, bitter liquid sloshed out over the side of one cup, splashing on Sam's hand, and the cuff of his jacket and shirt.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, and hissed in at the sting of the burn, but his fingers managed to grab hold of the key and he pulled it out, adjusting his things so he could aim it at the lock.

He heard a distinctly feminine groan come from inside the room, needy and breathy, a giggle, a sequence of high-pitched squeaks that sounded overly dramatic, and Sam rolled his eyes. He hadn't thought Dean would be back yet. He'd left him at a bar over half an hour ago, and he'd been well on his way to completely shitfaced, and showing no signs of wanting to head back to the room and join Sam in researching their latest case.

Didn't even think it was legitimate, so he was purposefully blowing Sam off, not helping out, getting pretty damn close to falling down drunk. Sam wished Dean would have stayed at the bar, because he wasn't in the mood to deal with his drunken brother while he was trying to work. Especially if Dean insisted on watching porn with the volume turned up loud enough for the neighbours to hear.

Although, in the kind of place they were staying in, Sam figured the neighbours would appreciate it, because if they could hear it, they wouldn't have to shell out the $5.95 for their own. Sam suppressed a shiver at thinking about slimy men in the rooms next to theirs, with their ears to the wall, listening to Dean watch porn, and jerking off.

And then he _didn't_ suppress an entirely different kind of shiver thinking about Dean watching that porn, and jerking off. Sam shook his head to clear it, put the key in the lock to open the door. Despite what Dean thought, Sam knew the case was real, and he needed to get some work done tonight. And he couldn't afford to get distracted by thinking about his brother, getting turned on by watching people fuck, letting out those soft, almost unnoticeable gasps he did when he was excited about something, licking those full lips unconsciously, sliding his hand under the covers…

Yeah, Sam had seen Dean pleasure himself before, mostly without his knowledge, but a couple of times Dean just hadn't cared that Sam was in the room. He probably did it on purpose, the bastard, because he knew Sam had kind of a thing for him. It wasn't a crush, exactly, because he didn't have feelings for Dean that were in any way not entirely brotherly, but he did want to fuck him. Or get fucked by him. Whatever. He wasn't picky, and he was sometimes hit hard with a desperate desire bordering on need, to get naked and writhe around with his brother, until they both got off.

And Dean liked to tease him about it, without actually admitting that he knew, hence the masturbating and frequent porn, and strutting around in his underwear, and flirting with every girl he saw. Okay, so he'd have done that one anyway, but still. He was a dick about it, was the point.

He pushed the door open with his foot, stepped inside and turned to the table to put his stuff down, and once he had the coffee safely on the solid wood, so it wasn't in any danger of spilling again, he froze.

The television wasn't on, and even if it had been, the grunts and moans and squeaks of bedframe and "hell yeah, baby," that sounded low and lazy and creepily like his brother, were not coming from anywhere near the television. Sam was surprised that he hadn't seen it when he'd come in, instead of hearing it first, but when he quickly thought back over the past second and half, he supposed he did. He saw a blur, saw skin, saw motion, but purposefully hadn't looked, because… well, because then he'd have to spend the next five minutes locked in the bathroom, and Dean would just have loved to be able to tease Sam about that.

But now Sam was in the room, and Dean was clearly having sex, and he couldn't just pull up a chair and start to work while his brother fucked some chick ten feet away, because they were fucked up crazy close, but not _that_ fucked up crazy close. So, he turned to look at them, opening his mouth to apologise, and tell Dean he'd be out in the car, and wait there until he saw the girl leave.

Because what else could he do?

Dean hadn't heard the door open, hadn't heard much beyond the not-so-quiet litany of sex noises that had been coming from himself and… he wanted to say Sherry, but that didn't sound right. Maybe he'd been _drinking_ sherry? No, that _really_ didn't sound right. Anyway, he hadn't heard the door open because of the noise, and he hadn't seen it open, or Sam come in, because - Shelly? No, he was sticking with Sherry. Probably. – Sherry had been straddling his lap, sitting upright and bouncing up and down on his cock, and doing a pretty decent job of blocking his view of the door.

He heard it shut thought, the sound it being kicked into place by Sam's booted foot loud enough to get his attention, and Dean grabbed onto Shelly's thighs with two solid hands to keep from falling, as he sat up slightly and leaned over, to peer around the girl and into the room. He was lying down flat on his back, and it wasn't like he was trying anything particularly athletic, but he was drunk enough that he thought he just might be able to manage falling out of bed, even from the slight movement, if he didn't have something to anchor him.

"Sammy!" he slurred, smiling wide, all teeth and dimples. "Where've you been, buddy? You're missin' all the fun! Sally here had a friend at the bar who was really into emo nerds. Would have loved you." It occurred to him (though he was drunk enough not to care) that now probably wasn't the best time to be striking up a conversation with his brother, what with being buried up to the hilt inside Sandy, her tits swaying just slightly in his peripheral vision, tempting him to lean up just slightly and lap his tongue over her rosy pink nipples.

Fuck, that sounded like a good idea, and his dick pulsed with arousal as he jerked his hips upward, needing more stimulation when he noticed that the girl had stopped moving. He turned his head stuck his tongue out much too comically to be considered in any way sexy, and jutted out his chin, trying to focus on the bud enough that the three images would converge into one, so that he could make contact.

"Dean!" he heard Sam shout, and he sounded kind of… pissed off, maybe? What the hell was his problem? Dean blink his eyes shut hard and when he opened them he remembered (and how he'd forgotten over the span of mere seconds, he wasn't going to think about), that Sam was in the hotel room along with him and Sarah, and he was trying to simultaneously suck on a chick's tit, and talk with his brother. Probably not the most thoughtful thing to do, to either of them. Not to mention physically impossible, what his mouth hopefully being full and all.

"I'm just gonna…" Sam started, and let out puff of air while he closed his eyes briefly, before turning and heading toward the door.

"Don't bother," the girl said, and then Dean's whole front got cold, the warm tightness around his cock disappeared, and the comfortable, assuring weight on top of him was gone. He pumped his hips forward once or twice more, just to check, but… yep, nothin'. He blinked, again, trying to get his eyes to focus, and he managed to see Sandy standing at the edge of the bed, quickly sliding into her tight blue dress, and when she bent over to slide into her shoes, the short length of her skirt riding up her thighs to reveal a good portion of her thighs, he groaned, half want, half disappointment, and collapsed back onto the bed.

"Fuck," he mumbled, making the word long and piteous, and Sam chuckled.

"Doesn't look like it," he said, smirking, and tried to smile politely as the girl Dean had been fucking walked passed him, and out the door.

"No, baby, don't leave!" Dean tried. "Come one, we could still…" But the door closed tightly behind her with a clink, and he groaned again. "Fuck!" he said, louder this time. "Great timing, Sammy," he groused, becoming pouty and sullen, mood changing quickly, the way it often did when he'd been drinking. "You chased off my lay."

"Dude," Sam snorted, shaking his head. "I think it was you being just about too drunk to get it up, and then and practically asking me if I wanted to stick around for an orgy that chased her off."

Dean baulked, seriously insulted that his manhood had been called into question, and looked down his body to find his still very erect dick poking out, large and red and eager, from the thick patch of dark hair between his legs, and looked back at his brother. "Dude, it's _up_! It's so fuckin' up." He'd been getting close to finishing, he could tell. Yeah, he was pretty shitfaced, and it had been taking a lot longer than it normally would have, but he had _almost_ been there, and now he was gonna have to take care of things himself, because his balls were going to be pretty pissed off at him if they didn't get some release.

Fuckin' Sam.

Sam rolled his eyes and pulled out one of the chairs at the table and sat down, turning it slightly away from Dean and opening up the folder. It was mostly because he wanted to start doing some work, and maybe a little bit because he was starting to get hard too, looking at Dean like that, and he wanted to hide the evidence from his brother. Not that Dean would remember it later, but he'd sure as hell tease him now. Probably a lot more overtly than he usually did, given his inebriated state.

"Yeah, well, she's gone, so you might away put that shit away," Sam said, flipping through a few of the loose pages he'd put together at the library. He spared another glance at Dean – okay, at Dean's cock – and he scrunched up his nose, disgusted. Not at the cock, no fucking way, because that was sort of making him wriggle in his chair, but at the fact that it was bare. "And have you never heard of fucking condoms? Jesus Christ, Dean."

"What? She's on the pill," Dean said, and kind of swayed a little, even though he was lying down.

Sam huffed and turned back to the table, when Dean shows no signs of taking Sam's advice, and covering up. "Even if that was true, which I wouldn't count on, there are things you gotta worry about besides knocking someone up. And dude, put some freakin' clothes on. Or at least take it into the bathroom." And shit, was he actually lecturing his brother on safe sex right now? With Dean still very naked, and very interested in getting off, and starting to actually stroke his own fucking cock, right out in the open, with lazy, almost distracted, lifts and falls of his hand? Yeah, their lives were fucked up.

"Pfft. Whatever," Dean mumbled, the words, like all the others tonight, coming out kind of garbled, and he kept his eyes on Sam as he continued to stroke his cock. Bastard interrupted his sex, so he could just shut the hell up and let Dean get himself off. Oh the other hand, just because Sherry had left, didn't mean he was alone. There was another warm body in the room now, and he knew Sam had been checking him out since they'd started hunting together without dad. Hell, probably since before then.

Sam realised that he was staring, mostly at Dean's fingers as they curled around his dick, pumping, and he turned his head away sharply, looking back at the table.

"Well?" Dean snapped after a good thirty seconds, and half way through Sam's fourth time reading the first sentence on the page.

"Well what?" Sam asked, frustrated, and making a point of not turning his head to look at Dean while they talked. Shit, could he possibly _not_ do this? Sam was only so strong, and he would probably end up whipping it out to join him soon, if Dean kept on touching himself like that, and insisting on conversation while he did it.

"You just gonna leave me like this?" Dean sounded… well, adorable, Sam thought, like a little kid who was whining about his best friend breaking his favourite toy, and insisting he replace it. Sounded hurt, and angry and petulant.

"You want me to go out and find you another girl?" Sam asked, finally turning toward Dean again, incredulous.

Dean made a face. "Dude, are you kidding me? It's after one in the morning. Only chicks left out there that haven't hooked up already, I sure as hell don't want to go near."

"Wow. There are actually girls you wouldn't touch? The world really must be ending."

"Cute," Dean said, scrunching up his nose. And then he continued, in a perfectly normal tone, as if what he was saying was totally and completely reasonable. To him, it was. "No dumbass. What I want is for you to come over here and help me out."

Sam's eyes widened comically and his mouth dropped open before he got a hold on his total shock, and managed to even out his expression. What the hell? Dean was obviously way drunker than Sam had thought, because Dean would never, _ever_, suggest something like that if he had even two functioning neurons.

All he said was, "Dean, you're drunk," and made sure to look only at Dean's face, and not any other part of his body, lax and naked and sprawled on the bed. Why the fuck did Dean have to be so Goddamn hot?

"And horny," Dean added helpfully, nodding and smiling, because really, when it came down to it, horny trumped just about everything else. It definitely trumped drunk. "Don't forget horny, Sammy."

Sam swallowed when the arm that had been flung over Dean's head moved, hand coming to cover his chest and move slowly downward over smooth, golden skin, finger tips skimming over his nipples on the way, and it wasn't until it had slid over his stomach, thumb dipping into the hollow of his belly button, and pinky delving into his course pubic hair, that Sam realised he was no longer looking at Dean's face.

He forced his gaze back up, and was met with a cocky smirk on Dean's face, and he rolled his eyes at himself for being so careless. Yeah, Dean already knew about his perverted fantasies, but he didn't have to give him such blatant ammo.

And fuck, but Sam kinda wanted to take Dean up on the offer, but he wouldn't be surprised, by the apparent state of him, if he'd finished the entire bottle of tequila that the bartender had left in front of him, and there was no way in hell Dean was thinking straight (heh, straight) at the moment. If Sam did what Dean was asking, he'd be taking advantage, because there was no way he would actually want this, no way in hell, and Sam would feel like the biggest shit on the planet when it was done.

During though, he thought he'd feel pretty damn good, and based on Dean's hooded eyes as he looked Sammy over and touched himself, Dean would feel pretty good too. But then he'd probably hate him, and Sam would hate himself.

He tried to shake his head, tried to say no, but he mist have hesitated a bit too long, because Dean's knowing smirk had transformed through a clumsy attempt at a flirtatious wink, and into a predatory grin. Or, what Sam recognised as his attempt at one, because Dean was _really_ drunk, and his facial muscles weren't working probably at the moment, like he'd just come back from the dentist, and he mostly looked a little bit retarded.

And he was still hotter than hell, the jackass. Sam had no idea how it was that something that would be such a turn-off on anyone else, could still be so attractive on Dean. Just like almost everything else about him.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean coaxed, voice scratchy and wobbly, consonants and vowels blurring together. Sam hadn't said 'no', was looking _damn_ interested, not that Dean had doubted that, and Dean needed to move this the hell along before he either came in his hand (which, now that he had another option, was looking like a crappy idea), or passed out. He was getting kinda sleepy all of a sudden. "My dick's getting' cold over here. Bet it's nice an' warm inside that sweet little ass of yours."

He hiccupped, a short, severe intake of breath that made his chest hurt, and he frowned briefly in confusion at the sensation, before focusing on Sam again, and breaking out into a leer. Sammy's ass _was_ sweet looking, from a strictly objective perspective, he had to give him that. Not that he'd spent much time looking at it.

He honestly hadn't given any thought to whether or not Sam did or could turn him on, even after he'd found out about Sam wanting a piece of him, because Sam was his brother, and a dude, and that just wasn't done. Unless you were a freak, clearly, as illustrated by said brother. But at the moment, he was horny and drunk and desperate, and, well, needs must and all that, and Sam was there and grudgingly willing. And it would probably be fun.

"Charming," Sam told him, voice dripping sarcasm. Sometimes, Sam had to wonder how Dean ever got _anybody_ to sleep with him. "Even if I was going to…" he trailed off, unable to even say it, and instead just waved a hand vaguely in Dean's direction. "Which I'm _not_." No, he wasn't. Because Dean was drunk, and would hate him, yeah, but the more Dean talked, the less important that was becoming to Sam. It would serve the bastard right for getting sloshed like this in the middle of a case, and being such a dick, if the did fuck, and Dean had to walk around with the knowledge he'd screwed his little brother.

But Sam wasn't going to do it, because Dean couldn't be serious. He _had_ to be messing with him. Had to be teasing, because he'd seen the way Sam had looked, blatantly _stared_, when he'd seen the girl riding Dean, noticed how Sam's eyes kept being drawn to him since then, and how his mouth was practically watering every time he looked. And the second Sam agreed, or took a step closer, or stripped out of his clothes and jumped on the bed with him, Dean would laugh, and call him a freak, and push him onto the floor, spend the next year or so making fun on him for it.

"Why not?" Dean pouted, stuck out his lower lips slightly, in that way that few people could ignore. He wasn't as good at getting what he wanted as Sammy was, but he was pretty damn irresistible. Besides, Sam wanted it anyway, so the fucker was just playing hard to get.

Sam ignored him, and kept on talking. "I'm sure as hell not going to let you fuck me with some random chick's fluid drying on your prick."

"Don't _you_ have condoms, Mister Safe Sex?" Dean asked.

"I don't give a shit how many condoms you put on that thing, there's no way it's going anywhere near me," Sam said. In truth, he wasn't even that grossed out. If he thought Dean was serious, that he actually wanted Sam, he would have settled some warm water and a washcloth, and happily climbed on afterwards, and given Dean the full cowboy. "And dude, that's not even the point!" he said, more to remind himself than Dean.

Dean heaved a sigh, not really giving a shit about whatever Sam's 'point' was. It was bullshit anyway. Instead he was going to concentrate on Sam's sudden aversion to his dick, turn that around and use it to get his way. Just let the little freak try to say no to him. He was being completely unreasonable though. It wasn't like Sam had never had some girl's pussy juice inside him. Then again, maybe it was. Dean wouldn't be surprised. Sam was pretty straight-laced.

"Fine," he growled. He rolled over onto his front, after two failed attempts to work up the momentum to actually turn his body, and kept his face on Sam when he wiggled his hips, grinding his hard-on into the mattress, and groaning pleasantly at the friction. He raised his ass just a little, knees bent and back slightly arched, and licked his lips to moisten them, knowing what that did to just about everyone, his brother included. "I'll let you top, f you're gonna be such a tight-ass about it. Not 'fluids' in there. Not yet anyway." He waggled his eyebrows, or tried to, and barked a laugh at his own lame joke.

"Jesus fuck, Dean!" Sam nearly shouted. Okay, that was just plain playing dirty. How the fuck was Sam supposed to turn that down? He was almost beyond caring, even a little bit, that it was just the booze talking, and that Dean didn't really want this, and the possibility that Dean was setting him up as some kind of sick joke was rapidly becoming worth the risk.

Dean lifted his hips a little more, then pushed back down, so he was flat on the bed again, and rubbed against the mattress, and he heard Sam make a quiet little moan, and it sounded kind of painful. "Like that, Sammy?" he asked.

"Dean, cut it out, man." Sam was nearly begging. Yeah, that's right. Begging. It _hurt_.

"Why? God, Sammy, live a little. Is it gonna kill us to have some fun once in a while?"

"We're brothers," Sam choked out, and he knew it was a pathetic excuse. It sounded weak even to his own ears, because that hadn't stopped him from lusting after Dean since he'd first figured out what sex was, but he had to give it the old college try. And why was that again?

"And?" Dean asked, like Sam was bringing up completely irrelevant information. "Who gives a shit? It's not like we're makin' babies, Sammy, just gettin' off. Besides, you can't honestly tell me you don't wanna. Seen the way you look at me." He tried to leer again, but he didn't quite have control of his entire face, and if he were more aware, he'd have realised that be looked more like he was having a seizure or something.

Sam swallowed again, and pants got even tighter than they'd been since he'd first gotten back to the room, and he thought that Dean had a pretty damn good point. Hell, it wasn't _him_ that had the problem with sleeping with his brother, so he sure as hell didn't need to be talked into anything. And if there was even the possibility that Dean was serious about this, Sam decided _fuck it_, he was going to take that chance.

He stood, stripping out of his overshirt and quickly yanking his tee over his head before he could lose his nerve. He was shaking slightly, and he felt kind of stupid about that, but Dean probably wouldn't notice. Dean's eyes widened when Sam started to strip, and Sam hesitated a moment, registering his brother's surprise. Maybe he hadn't actually thought Sam would take him up on, and that was the only reason he'd offered.

But then Dean cracked a smile, and raised up onto his hands and knees, one hand sliding under him to grasp his cock. His fingers tickled the head and he moaned, low and enticing, before he gripped himself tight, and started to pump. "Hell yeah, baby brother," he slurred, biting his lips, and starting to pant as he really got into it. "Knew you wanted me. Why don't you show me how much?"

"Shut up," Sam ordered, and stripped out of his pants quickly, relieved and thankful and completely fucking floored that Dean was actually going to go through with this. And now that it was real, he got that nagging feeling again that he was taking advantage. It didn't bother him enough to not do it, but it would be a lot easier if neither of them talked. "Yeah, I want this. You know that, so don't make any snide comments, don't use it against me afterward, and don't say a Goddamn word."

"Fuck, lighten up, Sammy," Dean mumbled. He didn't particularly like to talk a lot during sex, but he didn't like being ordered to keep quiet either. He wondered how Sam would react if he decided to get chatty, maybe started in on the dirty talk.

"Dean," Sam hissed in warning, and crossed the room, climbing onto the bed next to his brother. Fuck, this was really going to happen. He didn't want to spend time on any foreplay. It wasn't like ether of them need it, since Dean had been halfway through some skanky sex not ten minutes ago, and had been keeping himself pretty ready since then, and Sam had been more than ready from the second he got an unobstructed view of Dean fingering his needy cock. Also, he thought it might be more than he could handle if there were any kind of touching beyond the necessary, that it might make his lust turn into something more substantial, and that would be nothing but bad news. Dean had tolerated his wants pretty well, but if Sam actually developed fluffy feelings for him? Forget it. Dean would _not_ react well.

Dean clenched his teeth together to prevent himself from talking, and puffed out a hard breath of air through his nose, swaying his ass from side to side, indicating that Sam should get the hell on with it.

"Eager?" Sam asked, with a hint of humour. It actually felt pretty good that Dean wanted him so badly. Okay, not _him_, just sex, but still. Sam was the one giving it to him.

"Thought you said no talking, dick," Dean said.

"Shut up," Sam said again, and positioned himself behind Dean, slipping an arm under his waist to lift him up to a better height. He placed his hands on Dean's cheeks and separated them slightly, idly wondering whether or not Dean had done this before. He'd never seen him with a guy, and Dean had never said anything about it, even after he found out that Sam was a switch hitter.

It wouldn't have mattered, really, except that thinking about it turned Sam on even more, but if it was Dean's first time, he'd probably need some preparation. Sam spit onto two of his fingers and shoved them inside Dean without any preamble, caring little for the way that Dean sucked in a sharp breath and tried to jerk away. Hmm. Maybe it was his first time. Sam wasn't really surprised to find out that that turned him on even more than the thought of Dean taking it up the ass every Friday.

Still, Sam didn't want to make this any more flowery than it had to be, so he worked quickly, opening Dean up, and slipped in another finger, separating them inside Dean's channel, working them in and out, and after less than a minute he figure Dean was as prepared as he was going to get.

When Sam's fingers pulled free Dean let out a shaky breath, and started to rethink this. His erection had flagged a little with the pain of the intrusion, but it wasn't gone completely, and he could only imagine what it would feel like when Sam's dick was inside him.

It wasn't like he'd never done this before. He had. Once. It was a long time ago, almost ten years, and it was one of Dad's friends, some hunter they'd hook with for a couple of weeks to take down a werewolf, and it had hurt like a fucking son of a bitch then, too. It had gotten good after a while, and he knew that Sam would be more gentle with him than that guy had, and fuck, most importantly, Sam would touch him, jerk him off, and he'd get the release he needed, as well as the warm body and company he craved.

He felt the head of Sam's cock nudge against his hole and he tensed up, turning his head around sharply to look over his shoulder at his brother. He was dazed and tired, but he wasn't totally stupid. "Dude," he said, making a face at Sam like he was possibly the stupidest person in the world. "Condom?"

Yeah he knew he wasn't really one to talk, considering Sam had walked in on him having unprotected sex just a few minutes ago, but in all the… four times he'd had sex with men, he'd _always_ used protection. Gay sex was high risk. He'd been in school long enough to have learned that.

"Dean, shut the fuck up," Sam said, giving Dean the exact same look he was being given. "God, we fucking _bleed_ all over each other every other day, share razors, and sewing needles to stitch up cuts, and you're worried about a little cum?"

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Sam shoved inside in one hard stroke, effectively cutting him off.

And Dean screamed. Not high-pitched and girly, and thank God for that, but a low, long, manly kind of scream, and he held himself completely still, body vibrating with tension even as he tried to relax, until the blinding hot burn in his ass started to subside. Guess he'd been wrong about Sammy taking more care than that hunter. Bitch.

Sam gave him some time, not much of it, but time all the same, to get used to him. He held still for handful of seconds, before pulling back just a little and pressing in again, and then held still, pulled out a bit further, in again, and so on, until he's set up a decently paced, punishing rhythm inside him, and Dean's pain had faded to almost nothing, just a slight ache that knew from experience would be there for a day or two, and the indescribably pleasure that resulted from having your ass filled and your prostate stroked.

"Oh, you fucker," Dean breathed out, the words escaping on a heavy exhale as he pushed back against Sam, starting to meet his thrusts. Asshole had obviously never been concerned about whatever chick he'd been screwing, and fuck he could really go for some sherry, now that he was thinking of it. Maybe next time, when they had to wear suits or something. Anyway, Sam wasn't concerned about catching anything from Dean no matter what kind of sex he was having, and the little bitch had fucking tricked him into taking it! He was gonna kick his ass.

"Next time," he panted, and then groaned and his arms gave out under him when Sam changed his angle so he was hitting Dean's sweet spot with each thrust. "Next time," he continued, half his mouth buried in the pillow, and Sam's hands clenching his hips tightly. "I get to tap you, Sammy."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, and his cock _throbbed_ at Dean's words. Next time, he was gong to fuck Sam. God, Sam wanted Dean to fuck him. And shit, _next time_. Sam honestly didn't think there would be a next time, because as soon as Dean sobered up he was going to regret this, and things would get all kinds of uncomfortable, and Dean would be even more guarded around him.

So Sam didn't get his hopes up. Just fucked. Just fucked Dean, hard and slow, knowing he shouldn't be drawing it out, but unable to stop. He wanted to reach down and take Dean in his hand, jerk him off while he fucked him, but what he wanted more was for Dean to fuck him, and since he wasn't counting on that 'next time', he planned on doing it this time. As soon as he was finished, he was going to roll them over, and ride Dean's cock, hard.

Shit, he almost came just thinking about that.

He wasn't sure how long it took, maybe five minutes, ten if he was being generous, and he hadn't a word from Dean. Actually, hadn't felt anything from Dean, his brother's face buried in the pillow, and he was silent, just letting Sam take what he wanted, and it was awesome. He would _so_ do the same for Dean, if he ever asked again.

Eventually Sam came, balls tightening and lifting, cock pulsing and throbbing as he emptied into his brother's hole. His fucking _brother_. Shit, Sam had never, ever thought it would happen.

He let himself rest for a few moments before he pulled back, gently easing himself out, aware that Dean was probably sore and raw, and Sam smiled, thinking about how he'd be walking funny in tomorrow, would maybe shift uncomfortably in the driver's seat of the Impala. He gave in slightly and pressed two, three… and a half… kisses to Dean's back when he was free, letting his tongue lick slightly over the salty skin, and sucked in a deeply satisfied breath as he moved his hand under Dean.

He was about to flip him over, so that Sam could straddle him, but when his hand found Dean's cock, it was completely flaccid, shrunken and uninterested. Sam's stomach roiled and his chest clenched. That was kind of an insult. If Dean hadn't been enjoying himself, he could have fucking said something.

But then Sam did roll him, and he saw that Dean's eyes were closed. When he leaned down, resting next to Dean on the bed, getting closer, he could hear him softly snoring. Fucking snoring. Dean had fallen asleep. Passed out, whatever, but he'd done it while Sam was fucking him. After he'd practically begged Sam to fuck him!

Sam was pissed off. Sam was _really_ pissed off, because he hadn't even had the courtesy to stay awake while Sam shot his load in his ass. And then Sam laughed, softly, so that he didn't wake Dean, because really, it was funny. He should have known. Dean had been way too wasted for this, and it was probably better that he hadn't been awake for the end.

And with any luck, he wouldn't remember the start, either.

He considered getting up, cleaning them both, so there was no evidence of this in the morning, but the thought of Dean waking up, not remembering anything, jizz dripping from his ass, and his brother in the same bed amused Sam way too much to let the opportunity pass.

Sure, Dean would probably kick his ass, but the look on his face would be _so_ worth it.

He smiled, looking forward to and dreading tomorrow equally, and wrapped an arm lazily around Dean's middle, spooning him from behind, and kissed his shoulder once, before closing his eyes.

END


	2. Chapter 2

So, I decided to write a sequel to this story, because the idea made me smile, and a few people asked for one :)

Title: You Know You Wanna, Part 2

Pairing: Dean/Sam

Rating: Adult

Summary: When Dean realises what happened the night before, he wants to even the score. Sam doesn't complain. Much.

***

Dean was dead, he decided. He was dead, and he was in hell. Again. No, actually, he probably wasn't. Hell would be a fucking step up from the way he was feeling at the moment. He couldn't decide which was worse; the throbbing, pounding in his head, or the roiling nausea as last nights supper churned in his gut, getting ready to make a second appearance.

Or… He blinked, or would have if his eyes had been open, when he felt a warm hand press against his chest, and thick, strong fingers stroke slightly against his skin. Okay, so he was in bed with someone, which wasn't really that shocking. Hell, it would have been shocking if he _hadn't_ ended up in bed with someone last night. He'd been drunk and horny (at least he thought he had, he was pretty fuzzy on the details), and did remember having a few drinks with a really pretty brunette.

Dean took a breath and swallowed down the urge to vomit, and he covered the hand with one of his, and… yeah, that didn't feel anything like any kind of hand that he'd find on a pretty brunette. Not on any kind of girl. The hand was bigger than his, and the arm it was attached to was hairy, and muscular, and Dean felt nauseous for an entirely different reason now.

Shit. Apparently he'd taken some dude back to the motel with him, and although it didn't happen often, it wouldn't usually have him freaking out, but it seemed like he'd been so wasted that he'd let the guy spend the night. And that was bad. That meant Sam had probably seen them. Fuck, for all he knew Sam was in the other bed right now, watching Dean get spooned from behind by a guy.

He knew it really shouldn't matter if Sam knew he slept with men on occasion, but dude, right now it looked suspiciously like he was… _snuggling_, and Dean was sitting pretty firmly in the bitch position of that snuggle. And now that some sort of feeling was starting to come back to him besides the overwhelming feeling of being hung over, he was aware that his ass was feeling a little tender.

Shit. Fucking figured. The second time he'd taken it up the ass, _ever_, and Sam probably knew. Fuck, for all he knew, Sam had walked in while it was happening, and Sam probably wasn't going to let that go for a while.

He took another slow breath and prepared to open his eyes. First things first, he needed to get up. He needed to take a piss, and he needed some coffee, and most importantly, he needed to find out if Sam was here, and try to get whatever random guy was currently leeching himself to Dean's back out of there. He at least hoped whoever he'd picked up last night was hot, otherwise the fallout would _not_ be worth it.

God, he really didn't want to open his eyes.

Sam felt Dean's hand close hesitantly over his own, and he smiled, keeping his eyes closed, and didn't dare move anything more than a couple of fingers. Not yet. He knew Dean, and Dean was probably freaking out about what they'd done, not that Sam wasn't feeling a bit weird over it himself, but it was something Sam had been wanting for a long time now.

Sure, it would have been better if Dean hadn't passed out on him right when he'd gotten to the good part, but apart from that, and Dean's less than charming come-ons, it had been pretty awesome. And this morning was probably going to be, at the very least, entertaining, watching Dean deal with the drunken choices he'd made, seeing his face when it really sunk in that he'd hit on his little brother, and practically begged to get fucked by him.

They both knew that Sam had always been the one with the sick sexual fixation on his brother, but ultimately it had been Dean that had broken down and asked for Sam's cock, and that fucking _rocked_. He was gonna have ammo for months.

He felt Dean tense slightly and knew he was about to get up, so the benefits of being still, and therefore keeping Dean in his arms, were about to come to an end. So really, he had nothing to lose when he tightened his arm slightly around his brother, and tilted his head down, running his tongue along the back of Dean's neck and mumbled, "Dude, I hope you're feeling better than you smell, because… _damn_."

Sam chuckled and kissed Dean once, over the knob at the top of his spine. He really was a bit ripe this morning, but that was only to be expected after a night of intense drinking, and sex with two different people. Sam wanted to think that it didn't bother him, but really, it was kind of nasty. Dean would definitely need to have a shower if they were going to go for an encore performance of last night.

That was, if Dean didn't snap out of his post-sleep, drunken haze and knock Sam out cold with a quick jab to the forehead.

"What the…" Dean said, the words barely making it through his mouth, coming out raspy and almost terrified. Because the dude, the one behind him, with his arm around him, and kissing his neck, and Dean could only assume, because that would make him a terrible slut otherwise, whose come was dried on his thighs and around his hole, sounded a whole fucking lot like Sam.

It couldn't be Sam, could it? Yeah, Dean knew Sam had always kind of had a thing for him, and Dean liked to tease him about it, but… shit, only in that vague sort of way, where it was funny because it wasn't ever going to happen. Had he really gotten so drunk that he'd actually let Sam…

He groaned and sat up, dripping Sam's hand like a stone, and when he did, it landed square in his lap, where it covered his cock, palming it with a mile pressure, just enough to be pleasurable, even through his hangover. He sucked in a sharp breath and readied his hand to slap away the one in his lap, but it moved on it's own, so casually that Dean thought he might have imagined the grope.

Okay, he just really needed to think. He needed to remember. What the hell had happened last night? There was a girl, Dean was sure of that. She was funny, and cute, and really, really easy. And there was sex. Dean remembered that too, when he thought hard enough, despite the mind numbing pain behind his eyes when he thought even a little bit, but hell, he really needed to know exactly what had happened. So he thought harder.

Right. The girl. Sex… Sex being interrupted by Sam… And then it went fuzzy again. Mostly. The only thing that _was_ clear at that point, was a disturbingly vivid memory of being on his hands and knees, on this very bed, and wishing Sam would hurry up and fuck him. Oh, fuck.

Dean really, _really_ wished he knew what the hell had brought that on. For one thing, he'd just really never entertained the thought of sleeping with his brother. Sure, Sam was hot, and he had kind of a thing for Dean's bod, but neither of them were hard up enough to think that gay incest was a reasonable option.

Also, if, and that was a big, huge _if_, Dean had ever thought about the two of them together, he sure as fuck hadn't even thought that he'd be the one taking it. Dude, Sam was the bitch in the relationship. Everybody knew that. So what the hell?

He was just starting to work himself up into a nice anger over the injustice of a – getting fucked by his little brother, and b – not really remembering it, when a wave of remembrance, coated in arousal, swept over him. Sam inside him, pounding him, hands on Dean's hips. Sam wrapped around him, holding him up, breathing low and deep in his ear, and Dean trying in vain to push back against him for more, deeper, harder.

It had hurt like a bitch, he remembered that, but fuck it had been good. God, he was going to throw up.

He bolted up from the bed and ran the few steps to the bathroom, nearly tripping over his feet twice on the short trip, and shut the door behind him, blocking out Sam's merry laughter, just in time to empty his stomach into the pale green toilet bowl.

He rested his head against the cool porcelain when he was finished, and groaned, swallowing down the urge to dry heave. Fuck, he needed a shower. He fucking reeked. He got to his feet slowly, and turned the knob so that the shower sprayed as hot as he could get it in whatever shithole they were staying in, and as he stepped under, he resolved not to get out again until he was feeling somewhere close to human.

And until he could remember exactly what had happened last night.

Sam cringed when he heard Dean vomit, because while it was funny, it was also kind of gross, and there was a small part of him that felt bad for Dean, that he was going through this, and feeling so shitty today.

When he heard the shower turn on, he slipped out of bed and found his boxer shorts on the floor, and put them on. He would have loved to have seen Dean's face when he got out of the bathroom and was met by a completely naked Sam, lying the bed where they'd fucked not 6 hours ago, but he thought there was a very real possibility that he'd give Dean a heart attack, so he decided a bit of modesty wouldn't kill him.

Dean took longer than Sam thought he would in the shower. Dean didn't take long showers. It just wasn't a luxury he enjoyed. He'd get in, get clean, and get out. Sam had met people at college, roommates, and friends, that took really long showers, just because they liked them, and Sam even did that himself sometimes, the warm spray of water relaxing his muscles and his mind, but not Dean.

This time though, Dean took almost 25 minutes, and if wasn't for the occasional bang or clash or curse coming from the bathroom, that let him know his brother was still alive, if clumsy, Sam would have gone in looking for him almost 20 minutes ago. Actually, he kind of thought about it anyway, but he didn't think Dean would react to kindly to that.

Hell, the reason he was taking so long was probably that he was so weireded out about what had happened, and was trying to avoid Sam. Well, that was okay. It was only going to make this whole thing funnier, from Sam's perspective. Served the jerk right, if he was going to get so drunk he couldn't see straight, and then invite Sam to fuck him, and look so damn good that Sam couldn't possibly find the strength to refuse, then he had live with it.

And Dean was really cute when he squirmed.

Only… when the bathroom door opened, approximately four seconds after the shower had shut off, and Dean came out, dripping wet, water falling off his hair and down his face, beading up on his chest and down his torso, just calling out for Sam to lick them off, Dean didn't look anything like he was squirming.

He looked pissed.

Shit.

"Bend over," Dean ordered, eyes narrowed and voice tight, and he crossed the room to the bed in three long strides. He was gonna fuckin' kill Sammy.

"Whoa, Dean," Sam said, pulling himself up straighter and holding his hands out in a placating manner. "What?" Sure, Dean's instruction hadn't left much to the imagination, but he couldn't be serious. Dean's lines were never what Sam would have called good, but even he had to have something better than 'bend over' in his repertoire, or Sam couldn't imagine how Dean ever got laid at all.

Dean growled and shook his head, once, and stopped just in front of the bed, glaring down at his brother. "'m gonna fuck your ass so goddamn hard, Sammy, you aint gonna be walking straight for a _month_," he promised, lust and anger flashing in his eyes, and Sam pushed back further into the headboard, and swallowed around a dry lump in his throat.

"Dean, what the fuck?" He was starting to get a bit nervous now. Dean apparently didn't take to drunken incestuous sex as well as Sam did. At least not if he was on the receiving end. It looked like he was planning to make that up now, though.

"Come on," Dean said, cocking his head and grinning, smiling a mocking smile. "Don't tell me you don't want it." Sam obviously did. Fuck, Sam had wanted it for a good while now, and Dean was feeling vulnerable enough at this point to actually bring that piece of taboo conversation out into the open, and put the focus back on Sam's fucked up desires, and away from Dean's begging for Sam's cock like a prom night slut.

Sam pursed his lips and his entire body tightened. He couldn't really say that he didn't want it, because fuck, did he ever. He wanted it. In many and varied ways, he wanted it, but… Dean looked kind of dangerous. And Sam wasn't quite sure that he wanted it like this, when Dean was only wanting it out of some weird-ass notion of evening the score. No, he was pretty sure he wanted it to mean more than that. Not that he was going to admit it out loud, because Dean would _never_ let that go.

"Seriously, Dean, what the hell has gotten into you?" Sam asked, and did his best not to fold his legs up into himself, and cover up his nudity.

"Heh," Dean chuckled, but there wasn't any humour in it. "Interesting choice of words, there Sammy. I think we both know _exactly_ what got into me. And now it's your turn. So stop being such a little bitch, and bend the fuck over."

He didn't give Sam a chance to obey his command before he fell forward onto the bed, landing on his knees and bouncing slightly as he grabbed Sam roughly by the arm and twisted him around, forcing him face down on the lumpy mattress. He held him in place with one hand held commandingly on his lower back (not that Sam was trying to get away, and Dean was almost disappointed about that), and worked his boxers down over his hips, and off his legs with the other hand.

He let that hand trail back up over Sam's leg slowly, over his calf, his thigh, and briefly skimming over his ass before settling squarely on his hip, clenching tightly. He paused for a brief moment before the thought crossed his mind that he was being a little too girly about this, and he moved the hand from Sam's back up to his shoulder, and squeezed it a bit too hard, before lifting him slightly and slamming him back down against the bed.

Sure, he was being a little unnecessarily rough, but he sure a fuck didn't mind, and judging by Sam's capitulation, and his soft grunts of approval, he didn't mind either. Not enough to stop, anyway.

"Just…" Sam breathed out, forcing his body lax, because if Dean decided to shove his way in like this, Sam would wind up with one hell of a sore ass. "Relax, Dean. If you want this, that's fine," he said, sounding soothing and irritatingly placating. He wanted this probably more than Dean did, but he didn't want to let on. It was more fun this way. "I want it too. Just go easy."

"Why the fuck should I?" Dean bit, and the hand on Sam's hip slid a little, thumb dipping into the crack of his ass and pulling his cheeks apart. He tried not to look down, at Sam's bared hole, because really, before last night, this hadn't even crossed his mind, but he couldn't. Sam was hot, and he was needy, and he made Dean itch a little when he trembled like that underneath him.

Shit, he was in trouble.

"Dean, are you…" Sam asked around a gasp, and took a breath. "Are you okay? Are you… upset? About last night?" And yeah, that was a stupid thing to say, because Dean was obviously upset, and there really wasn't much else to be upset about other than last night.

"Dude," Dean said, sounding incredulous, and he scrunched up his face in a way that made Sam feel even stupider for asking. "You fucking tricked me! Bitch."

Sam's mouth opened and closed a few times in an attempt to produce sound, and after a few seconds, he managed it. Barely. "I _what_?!"

"Tricked me," Dean said again, through gritted teeth. He couldn't fucking believe that Sam had even done this to him, never mind making him actually say it out loud. The fucker. He was _so_ going to make Sam pay for this. "Into taking it."

"I…" Sam started, shaking his head, again not quite able to form the right words, but it didn't matter, because Dean cut him off.

"At first you were all 'Oh, Dean we can't. It's wrong. We're brothers and you've got skank cooties.'" Dean mocked, in his typical imitation of Sam when he thought he was being unreasonable, and Sam chuckled under his breath.

He'd heard it before, that impression, and he didn't think it was any more accurate now than it had ever been. It was still amusing, though.

Dean dug his nails into Sam, one into his shoulder, the other into his hip, where his hands were covering him, and he pushed his hips forward, letting his erect cock slide between Sam's ass cheeks, a promise and a threat. "And then the second I say you can be the one on top, your dick's so far up my ass I can taste it, and it's like you've never fucking heard of safe sex."

Sam snickered and bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud, but he couldn't hide the heavy intake of breath, the result of the pleasure induced by Dean's hips, his dick so damn close to where Sam wanted it. "Dean, that's not exactly how it happened."

"Fuck you. You tricked me."

"Dean, I really didn't. You wanted it." Dean did want it, and Sam hadn't tricked him. Not on purpose, anyway. He'd meant it when he said it was a bad idea, mostly because he knew Dean didn't return his misplaced lust, but when Dean had offered himself like that… It wasn't something Sam had planned, but is sure as shit wasn't something he could turn down.

"I was drunk!!"

"Dude, I think you're still drunk."

"Yeah, well…" Dean mumbled, and fidgeted his hands restlessly, desperate for something to do, because he really did still feel kind of drunk. Not so much that he didn't know exactly what he was doing and saying, not like last night, but there was still a haze about everything. It wasn't going to stop him though. "Still your turn, little brother. So hold fucking still."

Dean grabbed his cock with the hand that had been clenching on Sam's hip, and slid it down, placing against Sam's puckered hole. He moved it up and down a few times, pushing the tip into the natural dent briefly before pulling out again, teasing, taunting. He was in control here, and whether Sam wanted it or not, he was going to get it. On Dean's terms.

Sam twitched slightly, and Dean's breath caught, and he fought the urge to thrust all the way in. "On second thought," he breathed out, smiling and licking his lips. "Squirm. I think I'll like that."

"Bite me," Sam shot, and Dean did slam forward then, and Sam did squirm.

It fucking _hurt_.

Sam wasn't a stranger to this, he'd been fucked more than a few times. But usually guys went slower, prepared him, used some lube. They didn't just ran inside him and start pounding, hard and fast, without giving him any time to adjust.

And Dean's dick wasn't exactly small.

He clenched, he couldn't help it, and that only made it worse, but he willed himself to relax, knew from experience that it would get better if he wasn't so tense, and after a few deep breaths, after he arched his back slightly to take Dean in easier, and after most of his muscles went lax, Sam noticed something.

Dean's movements didn't seem cruel, or hurtful. Yeah, they were rough, and Dean was thrusting into him like he had a point to make, like he wanted it damn clear that Dean wasn't he bitch here. Sam suppressed a chuckle, and decided not to point out that no matter what was going on now, or would go on at any point in the future, Dean was still the one that took it up the ass first, because that wouldn't get him anywhere. Besides maybe a trip to the Emergency Room.

Dean's thrusts, the twisting of his hips, and the tightening of his fingers on Sam's flesh, they were punishing, to an extent, forceful and owning, but they weren't rough. He wasn't trying to hurt Sam. Just the opposite, Sam thought, as one of Dean's hands moved forward, creeping slowly over the skin of his hip to settle on his front, palm flat against his belly. His fingers twitched nervously, the hand moving lower, drifting over the course patch of hair above Sam's cock, and then slowly, slowly, as if Dean was scared, maybe of doing it wrong, or more probably of doing it right, and wrapping around Sam, solid and strong, stroking him.

"Fuck, Sam," Dean gasped, bending over so the words were delivered straight into Sam's left ear. "God, yeah, little brother, fuck!" Dean's teeth closed gently over Sam's earlobe, and he had to fight to keep the bite playful. Fuck, the things Sam was doing to him right now were criminal. Literally.

Sam didn't think he was capable of coherent speech at the moment, but that didn't stop him from mumbling some vaguely agreeable sounds.

"Mmmm, 's good," he panted, bucking back and forward between Dean's cock, filling him up, and Dean's hand, stroking him closer and closer to completion. "Yeah, right there."

Dean snickered and stopped moving, then dragged his cock out of Sam in a torturously slow movement, making sure to miss his prostate on the way, and then slammed back in, hard. He did it again, and again, finger and thumb creating an uncomfortable ring around Sam's cock, and when he heard Sam sigh in frustrated defeat, he grinned.

"Dean, just… fucking fuck me already! Please."

"God, I love the sound of you begging, Sammy," Dean teased, but he did start moving again, the way he knew Sam wanted, and it was as much a relief to him as it was to Sam. This felt amazing. "Better get used to it."

Sam thought about a comeback, but decided against it. Dean was right, Sam would happily beg in the future if it got him more of this. It was really just icing on the cake that he knew Dean was going to sound just as good pleading for Sam to fuck him harder and faster.

It didn't last long once Dean had picked up the rhythm that Sam liked best, the two of them writhing against each other, Dean's hand working frantically over Sam's cock to bring him over the edge only seconds after Dean.

When the body-shaking shock of intense pleasure had almost passed, and Dean's brain was on it's way to working again, he was hit by the horrifying knowledge that he'd said something to Sam while he was coming. Something distinctly girly and embarrassingly emasculating. Something about wonderful Sam was, and about how nothing had ever felt so good around his cock, ever, and Dean groaned as he collapsed to the bed, rolling them both, so that he didn't crush Sam underneath him.

It was true, even now that he was thinking clearly. He honestly couldn't ever recall anything so warm and tight around his prick, and damned if he didn't want a fuck of a lot more of it. Still, he had a reputation to uphold, and he couldn't go around acting like some lovesick girl, just because his brother was a good lay.

Dean spared Sam a quick kiss on his jaw before flopping down on the bed beside him, and mumbled, "Yeah, I definitely get to be top from now on."

"What?" Sam spat, turning his head, an rolling onto his back so he could look at Dean. Dean got to top from now on? Whatever. Then again, that implied there would be more sex, and Sam wasn't really inclined to argue with that. Still, he wasn't just going to roll over and do whatever Dean said. "How do you figure?"

"Cause you suck at it," Dean said, hiding a smirk as he turned his head into the pillow.

"I _what_?!" Shit, Sam had been told a lot of things after sex, but that he wasn't good at it had never ever been among them.

"Well, when you did it, you couldn't even make it good enough to keep me awake," Dean complained, half joking, half completely serious. He was still feeling a little embarrassed that he'd passed out, and looking to blame anyone that wasn't him.

He was starting to feel a little sleepy now that the sex was over, and still more than a little sick, but the apprehension was gone, and so was the nagging lust that had been hanging around since about ten o'clock the night before. He was almost comfortable.

He smiled, and sat up to lean over Sam, kissed him, on the lips without even thinking. It didn't last very long, and neither of them deepened it, but neither of them punched each other in the mouth, either, so that was good, at least. When Dean pulled back a few seconds later, they both blinked, frozen temporarily, staring at each other uncertainly, until Dean plopped down on the bed next to Sam, shaking them both with the force of his fall.

"Don't blame me 'cause you're lousy in bed, Sammy," Dean teased, and just like that, things seemed okay. The fact that they'd just kissed, on the lips, and had sex, twice, was okay. Or, if not okay, then maybe not quite as weird as either of them thought it should have been.

"Oh, fuck that," Sam said, but he was smiling. "You were drunk off your ass, dude. That was _not_ my fault. Next time we do it, you're gonna be stone cold sober, and I promise you, you're gonna be _begging_ before it's over. That's how fuckin' good I am at it." Dean was staring at him, a half smile on his face, and Sam shifted under his gaze, making a face when his ass landed in the wet spot he'd left on the sheets, and some of Dean's come dribbled out of him. "Lot better than you," he groused, but the pleasant throb through his mid-section proved that he was lying. Dean had been fucking amazing.

Dean snorted, and snuggled into the bed, tossed an arm over Sam and pulled him down with him, forcing him to relax. "Whatever dude," he said, lazy and casual, and completely confident. There was no way in hell Sam didn't think he was totally awesome. "I'm half drunk and hung over. Just wait til you get a taste of my A game. You'll never fuckin' want sex again, if it doesn't involve my dick up your hole."

"Charming as ever, Dean," Sam said, dripping sarcasm and rolling his eyes. "Seriously, though, I'm curious. What is it about you that makes people want to sleep with you, in spite of your personality?"

"Aw, Sammy, you love it," Dean said around a smug grin.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Sam mumbled, and he pouted, turning away from Dean, eliciting a deep belly-laugh, and Sam couldn't help but smile back. "Something tells me you're gonna be the one lovin' it if we ever do this again."

Dean snickered and bit Sam playfully on the shoulder, but said nothing, just let his arm hand loose around Sam, as he started to doze, hanging out somewhere between awake and asleep. There was plenty of time to analyse shit later. For now, he was sleepy, and lazy, and this was good.

And things were going to be damn interesting from this point on.

END


End file.
